


let's talk

by orphan_account



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Abuse, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "How did you die, anyway?"





	let's talk

**Author's Note:**

> this is like..... super self indulgent vent angst im sorry

“You’re a ghost, right?”

The question is out-of-the-blue, no talk leading up to it, not even unrelated conversation. Cagney and Spectre sit beside a tree, sky clear and night chilled, and Cagney just blurts that out. Spectre has to pause for a second, then chuckles.

“Yes, I’m a ghost. You know this.”

“I know, I know.” Cagney laughs quietly in response, leaning to the side to rest his head on Spectre’s shoulder, petal smushing against his face. “Was just wonderin’ if there was a difference ‘tween ghosts and spectres.”

“Hmm.” Spectre tilts his head back, contemplative. “I think they’re the same thing. Some people might say spectres are a subtype of ghost, but I don’t really believe it.”

“Ah.”   
  
“What’s this all the sudden, anyway?” He swivels slightly to look down at Cagney with a faint smile. “...You knew I’m a ghost. There a reason in particular for askin’?”

Cagney doesn’t meet his eyes--or, eye socket--as he exhales softly. “Are ghosts just… a type of person? Like anyone here? Or are they really…  _ dead _ ?”   
  
A cool gust blows a few leaves by them, ruffling Cagney’s petals, and Spectre hums for a moment before replying. “...Yeah. We’re dead. I mean, ghosts would be dead by classification anyway, I s’pose? But yes, we died before.”

Cagney just gives a small noise of acknowledgement.

And jumps when Spectre says, “You want to know how I died.”

“That’s not--” Cagney stammers, trying to think of a denial or an explanation. “I mean, I--I don’t want to intrude, I mean--”

Eventually, after near painful stuttering--to Spectre’s guilty amusement--Cagney sighs and leans back against the tree.

“Yes. That’s what I wanted to know.”

Spectre doesn’t reply, doesn’t move, just keeps looking at the sky as he was.

“If it’s too personal, you don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Spectre smiles and looks back at Cagney again. “I’m okay talkin’ about it. Just might… bum you out a bit.”

Cagney feels a pit in his stomach at the implications of that. There are… a lot of things that could mean. And of course his mind jumps to the worst, but he tries not to linger on it, instead gripping the grass with one leafy fist and looking down. “I’m… okay hearin’ about it.”

Spectre looks down as well and presses his fingers together idly, expression gentle. “I… was a really depressed kid. A lot of stuff goin’ on, didn’t even figure out half of it. Too much to list.”

He gives an awkward laugh and continues when Cagney doesn’t say anything. “There was a lot goin’ on, but no matter how much was wrong with me, it was never enough for me. I kept needin’ more to be wrong with me. Because…” He holds his palm to his head. “I don’t know… I felt like things weren’t bad enough for me to be depressed..?”

“Depression doesn’t care what situation you’re in, Spec.”

“I know. I know it doesn’t.” Spectre shakes his head solemnly. “I know that, and yet that was never a standard I could apply to myself. I could forgive everyone else, but not me.”

Cagney wants to say something at that, but his throat doesn’t want to work with him. He’d had… no idea Spectre went through  _ this much _ self loathing.

Spectre takes the lack of reply as a prompt to continue. “I’d never been abused physically. I had support from my mother. Access to treatment. No matter what was wrong with me,  _ it could always be worse _ . Someone out there had it worse than me, and there I was, wallowing in my own filth and self-pity because it was just  _ too hard for me _ . With all the people in the world, there  _ had _ to be someone goin’ through what I was going through  _ without _ any help. So I felt like I had no right to be depressed, if that makes sense.”

“Physically?”

Spectre turns to Cagney and furrows his brow at the look of genuine  _ concern _ on his face.  He sighs and clenches his hands, eyes shut tight. “...I went through… things. People hurt me. But I always worried I was bein’ an overdramatic baby, or blamin’ them for somethin’ they didn’t actually do, or fakin’ trauma…”

Spectre seems to realize how tense his hands are and relaxes them, and Cagney catches a glinting reflection of stars on a tear. “What if I imagined everything he did to me..? What if he didn’t do  _ anything _ , and I just want to be the victim of somethin’?” The last word is strained, and he lets out a choked noise before talking again. “I hated myself for it. I felt like I  _ let _ people do things to me. Because I just couldn’t set boundaries, ‘cause I just couldn’t say  _ no _ . And I hated myself ‘cause part of me was glad when I realized I had trauma. I hated how attention-seekin’ I was, how I would do  _ anything _ to make my depression valid.”

Cagney had fallen silent long ago, horrified by every single thing Spectre has told him, horrified that he didn’t know and couldn’t  _ do anything about it _ .

“...Cags? Sorry, did I say too much?”

Cagney snaps back to reality and shakes his head. “No, no, you’re fine. I asked to hear it.” He absentmindedly plucks grass out of the ground, leaves moving of their own volition. “So… these things just go away when you die..?”

Spectre doesn’t meet Cagney’s eyes, instead looking away from him and into the distance. It seems like he’s trying to say something, his chest asynchronously rising and falling as if taking a breath to say something, without finishing the gesture.

After moments, the weakest, most pathetic voice emits from him.

“No.”

It’s one word, simple and common, but the feeling of dread and realization it sends shocking through Cagney’s body is more painful than any word could be.

“...What’s wrong with me, Cagney..? Why is nothing enough for me?” Spectre grips either side of his eye socket, tears from his hands rolling down his face. “Why didn’t it stop when I died?  _ Why am I like this _ ?!”

His breathing is unsteady and erratic, but Cagney’s leaf on his hip, steadying him, brings him back to stability slowly. He swallows and sighs, lowering his hands with resignation.

“...I wanted to punish myself. I was--I  _ am _ \--  _ selfish _ for being depressed when I had so much going for me. If the universe wouldn’t punish me, I would.” Spectre shakes his head. “...Yet I still wanted it to be painless. I couldn’t stand the thought of goin’ out with even more suffering. I can’t remember if it actually was painless or not. Poison messes with your mind before it gets you. I assume it wasn’t.”

When he doesn’t get any response for this, he hesitantly turns to gaze at Cagney again.

Cagney’s eyes are glossy with tears, one leaf held over his mouth, shoulders twitching in his attempt to breathe steadily. Spectre has never seen such a look of  _ horror _ on him, and it gets worse when he tries to choke out a sentence. “You…”

Cagney shakes his head violently, evidently realizing that his attempt at talking is fruitless, and in one movement pulls Spectre in for the most snug embrace he’s ever experienced. Leaves around him protectively, stifling pained sobs and breathing heavily, unable to even  _ think of _ what to say, let alone say it. Spectre’s arms are still out in surprise, no time to adjust to the hug, and he just sits there for a moment, limp.

Then lets his own sob wrack him as he tentatively places his arms around Cagney, hands shaking and crying.

Cagney’s petals smell nice, Spectre notes. Cagney’s arms aren’t strong, but they’re comforting. Cagney gives good hugs. Cagney may not know what to say, but he makes up for it.

Cagney is the love of his life and death.

With a distraught-looking smile, Spectre doesn’t try to inhibit his crying anymore, holding Cagney close and shuddering as he lets sobs take over him, feeling Cagney shake slightly with emotion too. “I--I don’t remember--if I was relieved or--or horrified to wake up again.” He buries his face in Cagney’s topmost petals. “But I’m so glad I did now--”

“I love you,” Cagney manages, voice strained, leaves shakily curling around Spectre. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I’m so sorry--”

“No.” Spectre has even more trouble speaking than Cagney, voice broken and weary. “You have nothin’ to apologize for. This is--just somethin’ I go through…” He sniffs and lowers his arms, leaning back as Cagney releases him. Wipes his eye against his cheek to rid it of tears. “Hey, at least y’know how I died now,” he jokes with a weak smile.

Cagney laughs quietly, smiling back, eyes still watering. “...It’s not a happy story… But I’m glad you told me.”

He sighs and leans forward, resting his forehead on Spectre’s affectionately. Gives him a soft, gentle peck, quick but full of sentiment.

“It’s nice to get it off my chest.” Spectre’s hands haven’t stopped crying, but he seems genuinely happy and relieved. “Thank you for listening. For everything. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> ;w;


End file.
